The Neophytes
by Kaynin
Summary: A journey into the unknown is an unwise gambit indeedor at least it is for these unwary adventurers.
1. Chapter 1

STAR WARS  
The Neophytes

Anthony Krueger

**Chapter One**

**DREV'STARN, BOTHAWUI  
MO'KRAI MILITARY ACADEMY**

_Click_.

"Fayr Nan'ska, terminate your training simulation and report to Sergeant Nae'lya for debriefing."

_Clack._ The transmission from the intercom was terminated, and Fayr began the preemptive shutdown process, closing the simulation program first, then moving on to setting up for the next user.

_Click._ Once again the intercom sounded, but with emptiness. He stopped in his work to curiously stare at it for a few moments, wondering if he had merely been hearing things. After about ten seconds with nothing more than that incessant sound of emptiness from the intercom, he turned back to the controls and set the simulation for its first and easiest setting. He was surrounded by terminals in what appeared in all respects to be the bridge of a capitol ship. His current position was one of the piloting terminals. Suddenly, a voice kicked in like an explosion over the intercom.

"--AYR NAN'SKA." He nearly just about jumped out of his skin; hitting several switches on accident that began the simulation he had just finished setting up for the next trainee.

"--in the mute position. Didn't I say--" another voice said over the intercom.

"Yeah, now shut it." The first speaker said to the other voice before supposedly returning his attention to Fayr. "Report immediately to the Sergeant."

"Yes sir," He said fumbling to disable the simulation before it had the chance to start up and start making a lot of unnecessary noise, "I just have to set this up for th--"

"Not necessary. It will be done for you." The voice, which he recognized as belonging to Corporal Hatopo'chat, said gravely, "You are to immediately report to his office. I assume you know where that is." With another _clack_, the intercom went dead.

He climbed up to the command level of the bridge and walked down it to the exit. The door opened with a loud _hiss_, admitting him to the simulation room of the academy. Around him, two other bridge-sized boxes were shaking and jolting, simulating flight and battle onboard a battleship. As he climbed down, a man he knew all too well greeted him with a nod and fell into step with him, checking things off on a datapad.

"Well, as all your simulations have proved so far, no matter how many times you've tried and trained," He wrote something down on the datapad, "It appears you still are incapable of flying anything more than a frigate." Fayr sighed, fearing the news.

"Yeah, I figured. Those slow-moving tubs just seem so comfortable for me, unlike starfighters." Fayr stepped into a turbolift, and the man followed. "Starfighters are too small and too fast—"

"—and you just seem to love crashing them in the simulation—"

"—and capitol ships are too large and clumsy—"

"—and any ship you pilot larger than a Tatooine sand crawler seems to meet unfortunate ends."

"—for me." He paused to let the other man finish, then posed a question. "Aren't you supposed to remain on the simulation floor Ys'?"

Ysaran Wur'lowe was a mechanic and long-time friend of Fayr's. His fur was an auburn color, almost orange, and his eyes were a stunning violet, in contrast to Fayr's own faded red eyes. Ysaran wore a padded brown suit covered in pockets and pouches. Tools stuck out and hung from every place imaginable. Ysaran looked back at his datapad and grunted.

"Have to make my daily report; thought I'd do it early today." He said as the turbolift came to a halt at Fayr's stop, "It's my anniversary, me and the wife are going on a trip." The doors whooshed open.

"Oh really?" Ysaran gave a noncommittal grunt that could have been an affirmative as Fayr stepped out, "Well, this is my stop; have a good time, tell Opila I said 'hi'."

"Will do." Ysaran said, still not looking up from his datapad as the doors slid shut once more, this time presumably going down to the maintenance floor. Now Fayr was left alone standing in the middle of an empty room with three hallways to choose from. An unmanned reception desk waited nearby.

_I suppose I better get moving._ He moved towards the hallway on the right, the one behind the reception desk, and began his journey to the Sergeant's office. The hallway was nearly abandoned as he made the trip, only encountering a cleaning droid busy polishing the already spotless floor. As he walked, he began to think about his upcoming meeting.

_Debriefing? Is that his new word for disciplinary action?_ Sergeant Jean Nae'lya was of the same Alya clan that spawned the infamous Chief of State Borsk Fey'lya before the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Sergeant Nae'lya wasn't anything special, he just happened to be in charge of Blue Group, the group that Fayr was stationed with. Fayr saw him often on account of his bad behavior, and wasn't really looking forward to this visit more than any other visit.

Fayr stopped before a nondescript door, polished almost to the point where one could clearly see oneself reflected in it. Fayr looked at the deformed image of himself. His blue academy tunic came back warped and distorted, the yellow Private badge on his shoulder barely visible. The black slacks he wore blended in with the heavily-polished black boots, and his light brown fur could only be seen as brown blobs that should have been his hands and head. He didn't even want to attempt to pick out his long pointed ears in all that mess.

"You may enter." The voice came through the intercom in the panel adjacent to the door. Fayr pressed the large glowing red pad on the panel. It immediately turned green and the door whirred open slowly, in stark contrast to ship and space station doors, made for closing faster than the eye could follow so as to seal in case of an oxygen leak. Fayr stepped through before the door had fully opened and stood at attention just inside the room.

The office of Sergeant Nae'lya was left undecorated, with a single desk, and two chairs seated before it. A waste receptacle filled to the halfway point stood by his desk. Behind the desk and tapping away at his personal computer was the Sergeant himself. If there was anything close to being decorated in this room, it was the top of the desk itself. Scattered all over it were durasheet and flimsiplast documents of all colors. Fayr, about a meter from the desk itself, saw that one of the documents had his name on it.

_That's odd. Why would they keep flimsi copies of our personal files? Aren't they stored in the academy server somewhere?_

"I'd say at ease, but you seem to be one step ahead of me." The Sergeant said, causing Fayr to realize that he had relaxed momentarily while thinking.

"I apologize sir." He said quickly returning to attention.

"No need Private." He said, picking up the file with Fayr's name on it, "To answer the look on your face from a few moments ago: we keep hard copies of all our files in the case of a major system shutdown."

"Seems like an unnecessary complication to me sir." Fayr said with a strait face, "Especially on Bothawui of all planets, sir."

"Yeah, but one can never be too careful. Even the Bothans lose information sometimes, however unheard of that is." He then looked Fayr over once, "Did I not say to be at ease, Private? Have a seat."

Fayr relaxed and carefully took a seat at one of the two chairs. The Sergeant flipped through a few flimsiplast sheets and then seemingly returned to work at his computer. Fayr hunched over and fiddled with his fingers, waiting in the awkward silence for the reason he was called down here. He wasn't kept waiting long, as the Sergeant hit one final key and turned towards him.

"You know, you've gotten into trouble in the past, and I'm sure you'll be trouble in the future." The Sergeant said. Fayr resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "But despite the past, now is the time to discuss the current situation." Fayr blinked.

"Excuse me?" He inquired a confused note to his voice. "But did you just imply I'm not here because of anything I did?"

"Well, not anything worthy of discipline. Why, have you done anything recently?" Nae'lya shuffled the papers in his hands for emphasis. "Your record says you've been quiet lately."

"No," Fayr supplied quickly, "I haven't done anything lately."

"Swell. But I have not called you for that, regardless. I actually have something for you." Sergeant Nae'lya opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a datapad. "It's a mission, and despite my grievances with sending you, you're the most qualified for this." Fayr's heart quickened, and his stomach was doing back flips. But as controlled as he kept his face, his fur was doing a dance number on its own.

"I can see you're excited at this opportunity." Fayr's fur moved in the equivalent of a blush as he calmed it and relinquished the Sergeant of the datapad. "It contains all you'll need to know. Just make sure you arrive in Gamma hangar at the appointed time."

Fayr looked down at the blank screen of the datapad entirely speechless. What was he to say? _Thank you for making my life hell at the academy, you are a truly wonderful man._

"Uh…thank you…sir." He said, looking back up at the Sergeant. There wasn't much more to say. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't get all mushy on my account Private. I didn't want to send you in the first place." Sergeant Nae'lya said waving Fayr off, "Dismissed."

**GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT  
CSF HEADQUARTERS **

"Kruant Dalfrid?" The young man with brunette eyes and hair looked up. A uniformed Coruscant Security Force employee was looking at him over a datapad, standing in a doorway that presumably led to the office of the person he had come to see.

"That's me." Kruant answered, finally standing up. He had been skirting the edge of his seat every time someone had walked out of the Chief of Security's office, and now the chance to finally go in there was filling him with a sense of anxiety

"Chief Pal will see you now." The man said, walking back in. Kruant followed him into a room with a reception desk and not much else. The desk had a built-in computer that probably held all the files that the secretary worked on. The CSF secretary pointed Kruant towards a doorway on the other side of the room that slid open to admit him into the chief's office.

Kruant quickly stepped in, the door closing behind him. Within a large viewport spanned almost the length of the entire wall, it made him nervous, causing him to stay towards the back of the office. A large hardwood desk was sitting before it, and the Chief sitting behind it facing Kruant.

He looked like a cheery old man, slightly plump, with wrinkles on his face suggesting excessive smiling of the forced variety. His withered gray hair and tattered uniform suggested that he had served the CSF for a long time, and was well past his prime. The fact that he wasn't retired suggested he either liked his job or that he couldn't afford to retire. Kruant suspected the former reason.

"Mister Dalfrid. Have a seat." Kruant took one of the free-standing chairs before the desk. "I'm sure you know why you're here, so I can skip right to the part where I tell you what we're going to do about your predicament."

"Finally, I was getting sick of that hotel room." Kruant said, casting a nervous glance at the viewport. "Two windows was two too many."

"Don't worry; it's tinted so that observers can't see through it on the other end." Chief Pal reassured the nervous man. "But now, as for our means of protecting you, we've found a surefire method."

"Great to hear." Kruant said with forced enthusiasm. He wasn't too keen on CSF helping him in this manner; he would have preferred a larger more efficient organization. However, the CSF processed these things faster, and he had had fewer problems scheduling an appointment with the Chief than he had with the larger places.

"There's a ship embarking soon from Corascant, it'll be making a quick stop in the mid rim, and then it'll be off with you safely on board." The Chief said with a smile, folding his hands as he finished his sentence. He seemed quite proud of himself for finding this ride, and it made Kruant bereft of any thought of depriving this old man his pride.

"Are you sure this ship is safe?" Kruant asked, "I mean, how exactly is it going to keep _them_ off me?" He was hesitant to use their name, as if the very name was a jinx.

"The ship will remain in motion, and if it is ever stationary it will only be so long enough to pick up or drop off passengers and supplies." He stopped for a moment to take a sip of his water before continuing. "There is also the reassuring fact that the ship is a well-armed military frigate. I'm sure you are well aware that nobody would be stupid enough to attempt laying siege to it just to get at you."

"That is somewhat reassuring. Might I ask where it's going?"

"Nowhere in specific; it's on—a patrol mission—of sorts." Chief Pal was picking his words carefully, and Kruant didn't like it. He knew when someone was bluffing during a game of sabac, and this situation wasn't much different.

"There's something you're not telling me." Kruant said with a little bit of an edge to his voice, "What is it?" The Chief laughed.

"Oh, it's not life-threatening, I just can't tell you what the ship is up to. Top secret military stuff and all that trumped-up garbage." He said with a chuckle, but he sobered quickly. "And in any case, I really don't know what I'm hiding either. Just know it took digging up some costly contacts of mine to get you in on this vessel. Don't look a gift Bantha in the mouth, they say."

"Unless it came from a Hutt." Kruant said without humor.

**DREV'STARN, BOTHAWUI  
OSCA CANTINA**

It was only two hours after his meeting with the Sergeant, and the prospect of his first mission enthralled him to the very core. He, Fayr Nan'ska, was qualified for a mission. This was almost the only thing on his mind. The rush of activity in the cantina didn't even faze him and the Bith band in the corner was playing a lively tune that nobody was paying attention to.

"So do you know what it is?" Guri Ski'lis, a yellow-eyed Bothan female with the looks of holovid star, and the brains of an Arkanian. She found it more interesting to browse an archive than to practice at the firing range, as she'd proven many times. Guri was against the prospect of warfare, and made it known throughout the academy. Numerous instructors had tried forcing a gun into her hands, but each time she dutifully refused. Many wondered why she had deemed to join the academy, and often she claimed that she was merely here to learn discipline, but nobody believed that for a second.

"No, I haven't read it yet." Fayr said, taking a sip of juma. "Hope it's important though."

"Why not?" Jefferie Doglas, a Corellian male, stereotypic as they got. Reckless, stupid, and all-around daredevil, Jeff was on his way to an early grave. He'd crashed more fighters in the simulation pulling daring maneuvers than he'd vaped enemy ships. His attitude was atrocious, and he skipped out on chores whenever possible. Fayr thought it a wonder the academy hadn't thrown him out on the streets, even _if_ his father was a wealthy contributor to military operations in the Bothan Sector. He was drinking a strange orange liquid that Fayr wasn't too keen on trying again; not after the last incident with it anyway. "Didn't wanna' share the details with your pals?"

"No, it's not that." Fayr said rolling his eyes, a human gesture he had picked up from Jeff, "I just didn't want to spend my time reading the whole thing and missing our weekly outing."

"You could have brought it with." Guri said sounding somewhat disappointed as she brushed aside her white hair with a cream-colored hand. Her juma juice sat almost untouched, she never seemed to like finishing her food or beverages beyond the halfway point.

"So I could _what_, get it stolen? Oh yeah, the Sergeant would love that." Fayr said, rolling his eyes yet again. He made his voice as innocent as possible. "Uh, Sergeant, remember that datapad with military secrets encrypted on it…? Yeah, well I kinda' got it stolen and now whatever is on it is compromised. I hope you understand sir." Jeff was in mid-gulp and started coughing, a result of laughing while drinking.

"Well you certainly could have glanced at it." Guri said, giving Jeff an amused glance as she handed him a napkin to wipe up his mess.

"Can we just drop it? How about we enjoy possibly our last night together?" Fayr said with irritation, "Too bad Ysaran isn't here, although nothing we can really do about that anniversary of his."

"Anniversary?" Guri asked surprised, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have gotten him something!"

"I didn't know, myself. He just mentioned it in passing, and I was on my way to the Sergeant's office anyway."

"Would you two keep the love quarrels to a minimum?" Jeff said taking another sip of his beverage, only his gray eyes and brown hair visible over the cup. "I like this song."

Fayr and Guri stopped talking, and the three if them sat there appreciating the music and the general hubbub of the cantina. Before long, Fayr found himself at the bottom of his glass, and with nothing much more to talk about. _I guess it's time I got moving._

"Well guys it's late and I need to get reading that datapad." He started to stand up and suddenly had an odd foreboding feeling, but he wasn't quite sure why. "So I'll se—"

"Look out!" Suddenly his face smashed into the table as the sound of a blaster went off. He heard the bolt whizzing over his head as people all around him screamed. Fayr struggled and freed himself from Jeff's grip, looking around to see where the shot had come from. It didn't take much looking. Standing in the door was a Trandoshan wearing an armored flight suit and a whole armament of weaponry. A smoking heavy blaster pistol was in his hand, now safely aimed at the ceiling.

_A bounty hunter._ The first thought on Fayr's mind was that he was in danger right now, and that he was about to die. But as the being took several steps into the cantina, Fayr took his eyes off of the new arrival, and looked in the direction the blaster bolt had flown. Laying on the ground with a smoking hole in his chest was a Human male wearing old robes and shiny new boots. In his hand was clutched a metallic cylinder that Fayr knew all too well.

_A lightsaber. That man is—was a Jedi._ But what would a Jedi be doing in a crowded cantina, and what person would be insane enough to put a bounty on one?

"Be careful." The Trandoshan hissed in his ear. Fayr nearly jumped out of his skin; he had been so transfixed on the Jedi, he hadn't known the Trandoshan had walked up behind him. "Ssstanding in the way of Maw'sss ssshotsss isss an easssy way to die. Thank your friend for sssaving you." Fayr nodded, wide-eyed, and shaking from head to foot. He wasn't so sure he could remain standing long enough to get back to the academy. Jeff snapped him out of the shock with a smack on the back.

"Come on; let's get out of here before authorities start showing up and questioning us." Fayr nodded soundlessly, and they all stood and left the cantina. Not a one of them deemed to talk about the mission or even about the dead Jedi. All Fayr could think about on the ride back to the academy was how close he had come to dying. That and how much he needed the mission to get away from the academy. Many academy-goers had been present at the cantina, and they'd never let him live this down.

The shuttle disembarked from the academy leaving the three just standing there. Fayr turned towards Jeff. "Thanks fo—"

"Nah, don't say anything about it. I just suddenly had a bad feeling about the guy standing in the door and decided it was better if you face-planted into the table, rather than getting shot." Jeff said cheerfully.

"A bad feeling? Or maybe it was the blaster aimed in my general direction?" Fayr mused.

"Nope, didn't see the blaster. Fired from the hip, that one." Fayr gave Jeff an odd look.

"When did you turn into a Jedi?"

"Didn't. Call it Corellian intuition; we have sixth sense for sensing trouble." Jeff joked. Guri seemed to find this amusing.

"That explains why you find trouble so easily." she murmured sarcastically, promoting a healthy laugh from the group as they began the long climb up to the academy.

(Author's notes: If you have any questions then go ahead and ask. However, if it is related to what something like flimsi is in the Star Wars Universe, try looking it up at Wookieepedia. It's a lot more helpful.)


	2. Chapter 2

The Neophytes  
Anthony Krueger

**Chapter Two**

**DREV'STARN, BOTHAWUI  
MO'KRAI MILITARY ACADEMY  
FAYR NAN'SKA'S QUARTERS**

As soon as Fayr made his way back to his quarters, the first thing he did was strip himself of clothing and make his way into the refresher. There he stepped into the shower and activated the privacy screen; studying the control panel for a moment before deciding it might be better if he took a water shower rather than a sonic shower. Sonic showers sent out sonic waves that vibrated the skin in a way that forced grime to vacate the surface of the body and fall to the ground. However, Fayr felt the need of something solid and cleansing, and so opted to hit the switch for the water.

He gasped as a torrent of cold water hit him dead center in the chest; no matter how many times that happened, he still couldn't get used to it. The military wasn't too big on wasting money on frivolous things like warm water. Regardless of the icy coldness, he rotated and bobbed his head under the spray to make sure every last bit of him was soaked; he needed his fur wet before he could shampoo it. As he picked up the shampoo bottle and squirted some into his hand, he began to think back on the events of the day, and let his hands automatically work on their own.

_A mission._ He thought soberly. The excitement of getting a mission had been lost on him after his scare in the cantina earlier. He couldn't imagine why; this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to prove that his life wasn't a total waste yet, that he could still prove to be of some use to someone. _A chance to prove you were wrong for a change…_

_Then there was the Jedi._ He stopped, frozen for a moment in remembrance of the dead human. For some reason, he had, and still did, feel sorrow for the loss of that Jedi's life. Never had one close to Fayr died; but seeing a guardian of peace and justice lying in a pool of his own blood was a disturbing thought for him. _Perhaps it was my grandfather, and the connections he had with the Jedi. All those stories he told me as a kid about how the Jedi used to be, and how things could have been if Palpatine hadn't happened…_

Maybe. He wasn't sure why he felt depressed, because he honestly hadn't cared much for the Jedi. Not even his grandfather, a close supporter of the Order, could convince him the Jedi were a good thing. Their role in stemming the Yuuzhan Vong invasion had made Fayr glorify them as a child. But with the war over and the galaxy at peace, or at least as peaceful as it ever could get, everyone saw them for what they really were: nosy, hypocritical cultists who stirred trouble wherever they went.

If anything, Fayr should have been glad the Jedi was dead. In any case, he quickly dismissed it and instantly focused his mind on quickly finishing his shower so that he could check out the datapad. It took another fifteen minutes of lathering, and rinsing to get his entire body clean. After he had rinsed the last of the shampoo out of his fur, he deactivated the water and turned on the sonic shower; the sonic vibrations served to vibrate the water out of his fur so when he deactivated the privacy screen and began toweling off, he didn't have as much to dry.

It took Fayr another five minutes to quickly groom his fur out flat before he returned to his quarters and dressed himself in boxers and a sleeveless undershirt. Finishing pulling the shirt over his head, he sat down on his bed and dumbly looked around the room for what to do next. He had remembered that he wanted to do something before he went to bed, and it was important. But what? The thought came to him an instant later.

_The datapad!_ Fayr shook his head, annoyed that he had forgotten something so important. He slid off the bed and onto his knees to look under his bed. Beneath the bed was a single bag full of clothing and belongings he had packed earlier today, and beside it was the flat plasteel object Fayr had been looking forward to viewing most of the day. He pulled the datapad out, kneeling at the side of his bed, and activated it. The screen turned the telltale blue of the startup sequence before it displayed a list of files to access.

Starting at the top, Fayr saw one file titled, "Read First". He skipped past it, looking down the list. Mission briefing, crew logs, ship layouts, star maps; the little datapad looked to have everything he needed for whatever this mission was. He returned to the first file and opened it. A message in Botha scrolled out before his eyes, and he read:

_Fayr Nan'ska, I am delighted to congratulate you on your promotion to pilot of the EU-01 military exploration frigate._

Fayr's mouth dropped open. How had he gained such an honor? He glanced back at the datapad, reading on.

_Now, before you get too excited, let me explain to you how you attained this rank._

_When you joined the academy, you were the worst snubfighter pilot ever to grace the academy floor. Save for Jeff Doglas, there was not one being with a higher fighter fatality rate. After two months of failure, we had decided we were going to throw you out of the academy. That is until we found out about your unauthorized use of the bridge simulation unit. Corporal Hatopo'chat had been recording your use of them for the past month, and he gave us the data to analyze before we made our decision._

_At first we just examined the capital-class ship data, and scoffed at it. The scores were almost as low as the fighter simulations. We almost immediately made up our minds to boot you out right then and there. But one of my subordinates glanced at your frigate scores. They were unbelievable, especially coming from you. Crew mortality and damage were an all time low, and combat efficiency was an all-time high._

_We determined we would allow you to stay at the Mo'Krai Academy, and gave you free access to the simulators. In the meantime your file had been passed along to the New Republic, where they evaluated it among others to attain a promising position for you. Eventually, you were determined eligible to pilot a prototype frigate on an exploration and patrol mission in the unknown regions. Here we get to the point._

_To sum up your official mission, the republic simply commands that you obey your captain. But your unofficial mission, off-record mind you, is to keep an eye out for Yuuzhan Vong presence. If you locate __**any**__ Yuuzhan Vong at all, you are to immediately record the location. Upon your return I expect you to deliver these to Admiral Nek Bwua'tu of the Star Destroyer Ackbar. _

_Keep in mind that you are the only Bothan admitted to both the frigate EU-01, and it's sister escorts 02 and 03. The Galactic alliance does not trust the Bothans due to our Ar'Krai declaration against the Yuuzhan Vong. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your secondary mission, or make any notion that you even have a secondary mission. Dispose of this message immediately._

Fayr silently stared at the datapad, his eyes focused out of the real world and into his mind as he thought about the contents of the message.

_There's no signature, nothing to indicate who had sent it. It could have been sent by anyone!_ Whoever had sent it was taking steps to make sure he stayed out of the crossfire, but wasn't worried about endangering Admiral Bwua'tu. But why?

**GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT  
CORUSCANT UNDERLEVELS**

It was cold in the lower levels of Coruscant; cold and dank, even during the daylight hours. There was always the maddening sound of the constant dripping, and the stench was nearly unbearable. The homeless and hopeless littered the alleyways with their unwashed and unkempt bodies refused to yield at all to ease his passage. Not that he blamed them; it was very hard to perceive a moving shadow in the dark.

He stepped out of the alley and into a wide open area. Before him was an old brick and mortar building built into the surrounding duracrete. There were no windows, only a door and a flashing sign above it indicating it as his target destination. The _Cthon's Retreat_ was one of the rattiest, dirtiest, cantina's this side of the Underlevels. More illicit business and trade took place in this one building than in every office of all the crime lords on Coruscant. His business here just so happened to be of that very sensitive nature.

He simply walked up to the guant-looking human guard blocking the doorway, not even trying to hide his presence from the human. The guard didn't seem to notice him, so he flashed his teeth—as close to a grin as he could come—and spoke in his guttural accent. "Coruscant has lovely sunsets."

The guard almost jumped out of his skin, a holdout blaster materializing in his hand. His face melted quickly back into a grim, emotionless scowl as he slipped the holdout blaster back up his sleeve. "Very funny Kaynin."

"Yes." Kaynin broadened his "grin". "Yes it was."

"I don't get it."

"I didn't even try to—"

"No." The guard answered cynically. "In the morning the sky is gray. At noon it's a lighter shade of grey, and in the evening it's a darker shade of grey. Coruscant doesn't have lovely sunsets; if anything it blows rancor chunks out the ass."

"It's a code phrase Jakob, it doesn't have to make sense." Kaynin moved to step past, but Jakob held out a hand, his arm serving sufficiently to block his passage.

"Look, I like you." Kaynin said, looking at Jakob through the light filtration system of his visor. "But if you don't move that arm, I'll remove it for you; and not in the nice not-bloody way."

'That's an old code. Give me the new one." Jakob leveled his gaze at Kaynin.

"New one? I wasn't informed of any new code phrase. I'm just here for a job." Kaynin grabbed Jakob's arm, but it proved resilient in foiling any attempts to move it. Despite his gaunt appearance, Kaynin had learned the hard way that Jakob was no pushover.

"Well then, you have no business here. If Rorin wanted to see you, he would have invited you here." Jakob gave Kaynin a shove and he was sent flying back into the dirt. Being shorter than most species had its advantages and disadvantages; he hated the lesser physical strength one.

"Look, you know me." Kaynin reasoned. "I'm not here to cause trouble, I just need a job."

"Find another one. Find another place." Jakob said gravely, an edge of irritation began to show in his voice.

"I can't!" Kaynin leapt up angrily from his spot on the ground. Over the three months in which he had been marked, Kaynin had lost all credibility with his usual employers. No crime organization of any size would touch him, for fear of Rorin's mark. Maybe a larger organization like the Black Sun would overlook it, but they had more formidable contacts to call upon than Kaynin. "Nobody will hire me until Rorin takes his black mark off of me, and I need a job from him to do that!"

"That's too bad. You should have thought of that before you failed to take care of the last bit of business." Jakob had not a bit of pity in his voice; but Kaynin couldn't give up that easily. The last months had been too much for him. He had opened up a diner in the hopes that he could forget about the mark and just go on with life, making a profit off of food orders and tips. But as time wore on, his belly grew fatter than his bank account, and he knew he needed to escape that place and find the kind of jobs he had left his home world to pursue.

"Look, just give me five minutes. If he doesn't—"

"No." Jakob said sternly. Then he glanced behind himself, then turned and grabbed Kaynin by his fur, pulling him closer and bending over to place their faces on the same level. Usually such treatment would have had the fur-puller mangled and moaning in pain, but Jakob was no man to be messing with. He spoke quietly in a dangerous undertone. "Rorin wants you dead. If I announce your presence, he'll kill you."

"I don't care." Kaynin ripped Jakob's hand free. Desperation was making him do this; Rorin _would_ really kill him, and he knew it. He also didn't care anymore. Anything was better than growing old and fat in a grimy diner; even death. "Announce me."

"I refuse." Jakob stood up strait, "Now go, before—"

"Announce him." A voice from behind Jakob said. Jakob turned and stepped to the side, at as close to attention as he could get. A four-eyed reptilian humanoid dressed in flowing crimson robes was standing in the doorway, and he was grinning. "It would be very interesting to see Rorin's reaction."

"Rorin," Jakob didn't seem at all affected by Rorin's sudden appearance. "Kaynin is here to see you about a job."

"Send him in," Rorin's face split even further, if possible, in his horrifying grin. "I just so happen to have a job for him."

(Author's Notes: I developed a new chapter construction strategy, so it should flow better than the last chapter. It's also shorter because I thought the last one was a bit long.)


	3. Chapter 3

The Neophytes  
Anthony Krueger

**Chapter Three**

**GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT  
CORUSCANT UNDERLEVELS  
CTHON'S RETREAT**

The smell of death sticks and alcohol was apparent upon entering the _Cthon's Retreat_, or at least it was to Kaynin's highly attuned nose. Rowdy laughter and harsh whispers split the air with jubilance and caution. The usual suspects were all lined up along the bar: Rodians, Quarren, a Bothan missing a part of his ear, and even a pair of Gand. Servicing them all was a gangly four armed Codru-Ji; two of his hands busy polishing a glass, one resting on the counter, and the other hidden beneath the bar, presumably cradling a loaded blaster.

Spread across the dark room the other various inhabitants clung to the shadows, making their secret deals and payments; their gazes following Kaynin as he passed. The cantina was partially lit in regular florescence over the bar; the remainder was lit in ultraviolet. To a human, ultraviolet light was no different than regular darkness; but to Kaynin's eyes it was all the illumination he needed. He removed his visor, no longer needing the seeing aid as he followed Rorin upwards towards a lounge overlooking the cantina.

Waiting to meet the pair was a flock of female Twi'lek slaves, smiling broadly, winking, and wiggling their head-tails with a mischievous glint in their eyes. Kaynin had been told they were supposed to be beautiful to most species; however he found them quite repulsive, especially their smell. Whether most species were aware of it or not, they gave off certain smells when experiencing different emotions. The smell of the slaves' luxurious perfumes toyed with his sinuses and made his eyes water; but beyond it he could smell their strong sadness. They had lost all hope, and the smell was even more disturbing to his nose than the perfume.

"Do you like them?" Rorin broadly grinned, motioning towards the dancers. While thinking, Kaynin realized he had inadvertently been staring in the direction of the slaves. "They were recently hijacked from a trade ship bound for Ryloth."

"Yes," Kaynin lied with his best grin. "They look very exotic, very beautiful."

"Oh?" Rorin sat on his throne of crimson cushions and began to lounge. He seemed disinterested in the topic suddenly. "I find them repulsive. The worms protruding from their head remind me of a flesh eating disease I once saw." Kaynin winced inwardly; it was bad business not to agree with Rorin. Hopefully his own commentary didn't affect the outcome of this meeting.

"I came here for—"

"Would you care for something to drink?" Rorin interjected as if Kaynin hadn't spoken at all. "I can have Gil brew up anything you desire."

"No thank you." Kaynin said hurriedly. "To business—"

"Anything to eat?" Rorin toyed with a credit chip, flipping it between his fingers. "Perhaps a Twi'lek?"

"A—Twi'lek?" Kaynin wasn't sure what to say. Had Rorin just suggested eating a sentient being?

"Yesss." He hissed, his accent becoming apparent for the first time before quickly dissapearing. "I derive no pleasure from their dances, so I found a new use for them. Gil was happy to try something new in the kitchens." Rorin hissed with laughter as the Twi'lek slaves looked on him with horror. Knowing their place, the slaves all bowed their heads in defeat; all but one. The only blue-skinned slave among them dropped to her knees before Rorin's throne and begged him in the Twi'lek language; or was it Huttese? He looked on her in amusement before looking towards Kaynin.

"She begs that I spare her child. Not the first time she's done so either." Rorin stood and grabbed the woman by the neck, lifting her into the air. She gasped for air, clawing at Rorin's strong, taloned fingers. "Should I humor her?" Before Kaynin could answer, not that he even had an answer, a cry of panic rose from behind him. He spun to see a small Twi'lek child running towards Rorin with a blunt metal object. It was obvious she intended to attack Rorin, but Kaynin couldn't allow it.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around the girl, swinging her away and hugging her against his chest. Blaster bolts filled the air where she had been moments before, the cantina falling silent as all eyes looked towards the lounge. Kaynin had ignored the YVH Assassin droids before because he had mistaken them for statues; but at the last moment he had seen them aiming their barreled arms towards the imminent threat to their master. Slowly the noise level in the cantina rose to its original level, and Rorin dropped the gasping Twi'lek woman to the floor.

"A good save Kaynin." Rorin praised him mockingly as he returned to lounging in his throne. "It appears your reflexes haven't dulled after growing old and fat." The Twi'lek girl in Kaynin's arms struggled to get free, kicking his stomach and biting his ear. Kaynin patiently waited until the YVH droids lowered their weapons before gratefully letting her down to see her mother. The girl ran over to her mother and embraced her, crying.

"Fat I may have grown, but not old. My race may mature to adulthood at thirteen, but we live as long as or even longer than most." Kaynin retorted; he ignored the drama going on before Rorin's throne between the two Twi'lek. "I'm seventeen; still young, still resourceful. Still useful." He added that last forcefully, and as an afterthought.

"Obviously not resourceful enough if you've come to me for work." Rorin said admiring his own manicured talons. "After all, I did put my Black Mark on your name, so that means I'd hire bantha poodoo to get a job done over you every time."

"Well I want it removed!" Kaynin said forcefully. "I can't find any work that suits my area of business without someone forcefully kicking me out or shooting at me!"

"Well then, it seems you shouldn't have cost me millions of credits in that little slip up of yours, should you have?"

"It wasn't my fault! There was a Jedi!" Rorin gave Kaynin a hard stare, and he fell silent. He looked towards the ceiling as if thinking for a moment before a glazed look came over his eyes. Rorin turned his four eyes towards Kaynin, his reptilian grin broad.

"I'm willing to remove the mark—"

"If—?" Kaynin asked cynically.

"—_if_ you are willing to do something for me." Rorin sat up in his throne, still grinning. Kaynin was getting tired of that grin; so much that he wanted to take a good heavy blaster and blow it right off. Unfortunately, all he had was his own claws and teeth at the moment; the YVH droids would surely blow several holes in him if he even breathed in Rorin's direction. "I want you to finish the job you failed." Kaynin was defeated. After the trial, witnesses were usually placed into a protection program; there was no way Kaynin would ever find him, even his connections didn't extend into the government!

"But that's impossible, he could be anywhere by now!"

"Then I suggest you start looking, because if you don't accept this now you'll be smoking slag on the floor of my cantina." Rorin growled darkly. "So what will it be?" Kaynin didn't need any time to think at all, however he took a moment before answering.

"I'll take it, but it may take some time to check through all the protection agencies—"

"Then I'll save you some time: he didn't go through _any_ of the protection agencies, my contacts report no trace of anyone that even smells like him." Rorin was obviously frustrated that his own sources could fail him so thoroughly, and it was lucky for Kaynin that they had. Now that he thought about it, Rorin probably had counted on Kaynin coming to him for the job. Now that he knew he had the upper hand, Kaynin could actually breathe easy.

"You need me because I have contacts in places you don't, am I right?" Kaynin grinned, his teeth probably the only distinguishable feature on him other than his glowing red eyes. "All of your other contractors and contacts have failed, so you need me for your revenge." Rorin was obviously furious.

"I swear to you, I can and will set my droids on you!" Rorin snapped. Kaynin's grin slid off his face, and his eyes narrowed.

"Very well, I will see what I can do. Now about my pay—"

"You will be compensated well, and the mark will be removed from your name." Rorin interjected quickly, waving his hand in dismissing way; he obviously wanted this meeting to come to a close.

"That was not what I was going to ask." Kaynin looked towards the Twi'leks huddled together before Rorin's throne. "I want to know how much you would sell me the child for; you can take it out of my pay if you like." The mother looked towards him, at first with fear. Any parent would worry for their child, especially if they were to be sold. But as Rorin considered the trade, and the moments passed, the fear melted from her face. In its place were a smile and a look in her eyes he couldn't place. Gratitude, maybe even happiness; he couldn't tell. He'd never bothered to learn what emotions were tied with the various face distortions most humanoids performed. He recognized the smile, but that was all.

His attention was caught once again by Rorin shifting in his throne.

"Take her. Consider her your advance payment." Rorin finally said. "But if you don't complete the job Kaynin, I will kill you both."

"Understood, Rorin." Kaynin half-bowed. "I won't fail you again."

(Author's notes: I decided my chapters would be a little more focused and less spread-out. The chapters will focus solely on one character, and if I deem it necessary, a short underlying scene elsewhere.

This makes my chapters much shorter, because it's very hard to milk the situation much further unless things are moving. I guarantee this will make things less cluttered though.)


End file.
